


Battle Scars

by orphan_account



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Gang Violence, Injury Recovery, Major Character Injury, Murder, Theft, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-07-25 17:34:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7541710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being given a second chance at life, a London Street rat joins forces with Jacob and Evie Frye, But the three of them soon learn that a war with the Templars comes with a great cost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The chase

My heart was pounding as I ran down the alleyway. I looked back over my shoulder and saw three blighters chasing after me. They were shouting after me as they chased me. I quickly turned a corner and ran into a crowded marketplace. I slowed to a walk and tried to blend in with the crowd. I turned around and started to watch the alleyway I had just run from. The blighters ran out of the alley and looked around for me. They started to wade through the crowd. I needed to get out of here before they found me. I looked around for an easy way to disappear. There was a toolbox lift attached to a building on the far end of the market. If I cut the rope I could use the weight of the toolbox to get up to the rooftops. I might be able to loose them from there. 

“There he is!” I heard the largest of the three blighters shout, pointing at me. The other two blighters turned around and started to run towards me. I took off sprinting towards the lift. I pulled my knife out of my boot. I jumped onto the lift table, grabbed the rope and cut it below my hand. The toolbox fell with a crash and pulled me up to the rooftop of the building. I started running across the rooftops. 'Ha' I thought to myself 'I’d like to see them keep up with me now!' I slowed down to a jog.'Well, I guess I better find a way down' I figured. I looked down at the street. My heart sank into my boots when I noticed a carriage of familiar blighters riding alongside the building I was on. 

One of the blighters stood up and cupped his hands around his mouth. “You’re running out of rooftop, you thief! Just give up!” He yelled. I looked ahead and saw the street turned and cut off the building. I Jumped off the ledge of the roof and grabbed a lamp post on the way down. I used my momentum from falling to swing from the lamp onto a carriage.

“Sorry, but I need to borrow this,” I exclaimed as I threw the driver from his seat. I grabbed the reins and whipped the horse. The horse took off in a sprint down the street. I turned back to see if the blighters were still following. Just my luck that they were. Man, whatever I stole from them better be worth it I thought as I turned the carriage around a corner.

I turned to see where the blighters were and saw they were right next to me. They turned their carriage and crashed it into mine. I flew from the seat of my carriage and landed in a heap in the middle of the street. I pushed myself up onto my knees. My head was spinning and my ears were ringing. I stood up and shook my head. I started to walk toward an alley, but cried out in pain and fell over when I tried to put weight on my left foot. 'Great' I thought 'I’m trying to run away from these stupid goddamn blighters and I go and break my leg.' 

Just then a pair of hands roughly grab me by the back of my collar and start dragging me into the alleyway. After we turn a few blind corners, the people dragging me roughly push me against the wall, holding me off the ground. I looked up and saw the three blighters from earlier. The biggest one was holding me up while another stood behind him with his arms crossed. The third one, this really small and deranged looking fellow, was playing with his knife in front of the first two. His grin frightened me. 

“You stupid little street rat,” The second one and quite clearly the leader said to me, “You thought you could steal from us?”

The small one let out a disturbed giggle. “We’ll show you what we do with thieves,” he said tossing his knife from one hand to the other. 

The leader reached his hand into my pocket and pulled out the small cloth sack I had stolen from them. He looked me in the eye with a disturbing serenity. “Give me one good reason we shouldn’t kill you right now,” he said seeming a lot calmer than he was.

I didn’t say anything in response. I just looked into his eyes with as fierce a glare as I could manage with several broken bones. 

He punched me in the face. “Ready to answer my question?” He asked a little more frustrated. As a response, I spit blood in his face.

“Does that answer your question?” I asked in a hoarse voice. He simply stood there smiling. 

“I was hoping that you’d be stupid enough to answer like that,” he said wiping the blood off his face. He nodded toward the little man who nodded back. The little one walked up to me and buried his knife in my leg. I screamed out in pain only for the big man who’d been holding my to the wall to cover my mouth with his big muscular hand. The little man pulled his knife out of my leg, and the leader stepped in front of him. 

“Now,” he said, “My associate is going to uncover your mouth and you are going to apologize for stealing from us.” The big man uncovered my mouth waiting for me to apologize. But instead of apologizing I let out a string of curse words so vile and vindictive creative that the big man holding me up winced. I don’t exactly remember what I said but I vaguely remember something about his mother and a donkey. The big man quickly covered up my mouth again.

The leader looked me in the eye, scowling, and said, “I’m going to make you regret that.” He nodded to the little man who took his knife and buried it deep into my gut. I felt an indescribable agony. I let out a scream that, if my mouth wasn’t covered, I’m sure would have been heard all over London. Suddenly the little man got the idea to twist the knife. I could feel myself losing consciousness. The last thing I saw before blacking out were two black hooded figures walking towards us.


	2. On the Mend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After recovering from the brutal alleyway attack John goes to a train station and befriends a well-dressed bookie.

I woke up with a searing pain in my legs and stomach. I looked around and saw several unconscious people in hospital beds. Many of them were groaning and writhing around in their sleep. I tried to sit up when a sudden light-headedness stopped me. I laid back down and closed my eyes.

When I opened them again quite some time had passed. I could tell by the change in lighting from the windows and some beds being emptied or filled. I stirred in my bed to try to get more comfortable. A nearby nurse noticed the commotion and walked over to me.

“You’re awake,” She said, smiling, “Good. For a while there we thought you weren’t going to make it.”

“How did I get here?” I asked with a scratchy throat.

The nurse got up and started to walk across the room. “You were brought here by a young handsome fella,” she said grabbing something from a table, “Black coat, top hat, scar on his left cheek. He had a real dangerous look about him.” She walked back over to my bed and held a glass of water up to my lips.

When I was done drinking I looked up at her and said, “I don’t know anyone like that.” Her brow furrowed.

“Well he seemed to know you,” She said putting the glass on a nearby table, “He already paid for your treatment.”

“Did he say who he was or what he wanted?” I asked.

“As a matter of fact he did lad,” She said cheering up a bit, “Said to tell you to meet him a Whitechapel train station when you were on your feet again.”

“Thank you, miss…”

“Rosewater, Gloria Rosewater,” She said holding out her hand. I shook it. “And who might you be?” She asked. I briefly considered using my real name. But only briefly.

“Jonathan Anderson the third,” I responded putting on my best gentleman's smile.

“Well master Jonathan,” The nurse replied blushing, “I best leave you to your rest.”

And so the next few days past. Eventually, I was able to sit up. A little after that I started walking. Not long after that, I met the doctor who saved my life. While the three of us (The doctor, Miss Rosewater, and myself) talked he kept throwing knowing glances in my direction, clearly aware he knew something the nurse didn’t. I wasn’t worried he was going to spill my secret, though. Doctor-patient confidentiality and all that.

Finally, the doctor declared me fit to leave the confines of the hospital. They gave me my old cut up and bloodied set of clothes, some extra money the mysterious top hatted man left, and a small cloth sack, more specifically, the one I stole from those blighters what must have been about ten days ago as far as I can tell. I don't want to open it in front of Miss Rosewater in case it contained gemstones or gold coins or something of the like. So I bid Miss Rosewater good day and strolled out of the hospital with a skip in my step. Not a very good Idea since I had a still healing stab wound in my right leg and torso and a left femur that broke in two places not too long ago.

As soon as I walked out of the hospital I turned into a nearby alleyway and opened the sack. Inside was a paper note. It read:

My good sir,

As compensation for my saving your life, I have taken the contents of this bag. Not that it should matter to you since you would find it’s contents less than worthless. However, if you should ever find yourself seeking employment you know where to find me.

Yours sincerely,   
J.F.

Next to J.F.’s initials was the symbol of a bird carrying a knight’s chess piece with a cross over it. Since I didn't really have anything better to do I turned around and started walking to Whitechapel train station. As I was walking I threw the bag over my shoulder and into the street behind me then stuffed the note into my blood soaked pocket. 

When I finally made it to the train station, I started walking through the crowds of people. I had no idea how I was supposed to find this guy now that I made it to the station. I figured if I just waited he would notice me, so I sat down on a bench and waited for a few minutes, but got bored incredibly quickly. I started scanning over the crowd when suddenly this blinding blue light appeared out of nowhere. I brought my hands up to my eyes. I suppressed a scream. If I hadn’t been sitting already my knees probably would have buckled. The searing blue light stayed like that for several minutes until it calmed down to a light, ghostly glow. It was only then that I realized I could see through my hands. I could see all the people walking around minding their own business, the trains coming and going from the station and a small child on the other end of the building selling newspapers. I blinked, and just as suddenly as the blue glow came, it left. I focused my attention specifically on sight, I blinked, and then the blue glow was back. 

Before I could experiment with this odd perception some more, I saw a gold figure move around in my peripheral vision. I stopped focusing on this sight and took a closer look at this man. He was wearing a bold looking top hat and long coat. He was also carrying a cane for some odd reason. I stood up and started walking up to him. I was about ten feet behind him when he turned around.

“Ah, can I help you good sir?” He asked with an annoyingly cheerful voice. I looked at his face. No scar, also His coat was blue, not black. I frowned. 

“No,” I said a little disappointed, “I just supposed to meet someone here and thought it might be you.”

“Well cheer up mate. Maybe I could help you find him,” The man offered. I was too lost to refuse. “So then. Who are we looking for?” he asked looking at the crowd.

“A man who favors top hats and long coats like yourself, but with a scar on his cheek. He left me a note with the initials J.F.”

The man suddenly perks up. “J.F.?” He asks. I nod. “I know a J.F. He and his sister E.F. are working with good old H.G. to bring down C.S.. last I heard they were going to meet A.G.B. about a rope launcher they pulled from the corpse of R.K..”

“Back to J.F.,” I said, cutting him off to regain his focus.

“Right, can I see that note?” He asked me holding out his hand. I handed him the note. He scanned over it for a few seconds before noticing the symbol at the bottom. He crumpled up the paper and threw it over his shoulder.

“I know where to find the man you’re looking for. His name is Jacob Frye. He and his Sister Evie are two close friends and business associates of mine. They both should be here within the hour if you don’t mind waiting. Oh, I almost forgot,” He held out his hand, “Robert Topping, at your service.” I reached out and shook his hand.

“Jonathan Anderson the third,” I said dryly, deciding to keep my old alias, “What was all that earlier about H.G. and A.G.B?”

“I have no idea. The author must have just wanted me to start spouting initials for some reason,” He responded, seeming more serious then he must have been.

“What do you mean?” I asked, “What author?” He chuckled.

“Oh dear,” He said, “There I go again breaking the fourth wall. I really must stop doing that.” I let out an exasperated sigh and sat down on the floor as Mister Topping started to rant on about walls and how he was almost as bad about it as Wade Wilson, whoever that was.

After about thirty minutes of silently wishing for something horrible would happen to this Topping character, a train pulled into the station.

“-and I would like to point out that he is much more vulgar and classless than my highly distinguished sense of humor… Oh here come the Fryes,” He said cutting himself off mid-rant. I looked up at the train there were several people with green coats getting on and off with various crates and equipment. I looked up toward the front car where two black-clad figures one with a top hat and cane and the other with a hood were walking over toward us. I stood up and watched as they approached. The one in the top hat was clearly the one whom the nurse described with a scar on his left cheek, another on his right brow, and a thin scraggly beard. 

“Topsy!” He called out, “How’ve you been old chap?” 

“Not so good master Frye,” Mister topping replied as the two figures finally reached us, “I broke the fourth wall again.” The top-hatted man feigned understanding, quite poorly might I add

“Then you better find some way to make up for it,” He said Mister Topping.

“Yes. I quite agree,” Mister Topping replied to the man as he turned to leave. The top-hatted man and hooded figure finally turned their attention toward me.

“Sorry about old Topsy there,” The hooded man said after making sure the raving Mister Topping was gone, “He’s not quite right in the head. But he’s still the best bookie in London,” He stuck out his hand, “Where are my manners?” He said, “Jacob Frye. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, even if it is for the second time.” I shook his hand. “My sister and I didn’t really get a chance to know you when we last met. What with your bleeding profusely in her lap.”

“I’m just glad we found you,” The hooded figure, Evie finally spoke. “Otherwise, you might have wound up in a cemetery instead of a hospital.” She pulled down her hood. Under her hood, her brunette hair was tied into a braid that wrapped around her head. A few strands of hair fell in front of her bright green eyes and lightly freckled cheeks. Her thick lips were curved into a smile as she talked. She held out her hand.

“Well you know us then,” She said, “What's your name?”

“Ja -Ahem- Jonathan Anderson,” I said almost forgetting about my alias, “So Jacob,” I said turning my attention to the brother, “In your note, you said something about employment,” Jacob smiled.

“Right,” He said, “Well you see, we didn’t just happen across you in that alley. We actually first saw you in the marketplace. By the way, that trick with the toolbox, very clever. We followed you and those blighters through the entire thing and I need to say you have an impressive skill set, and it just so happens that I run a gang called the rooks who directly oppose the blighters. The Rooks could really use your abilities. Not only that but we could build upon them. Marksmanship, Hand-to-Hand combat, lockpicking, we could teach you all this and then some. Not to mention the added benefit of bringing down a feared and cruel street gang that has personally wronged you. What do you say? Will you join us?” I thought about this for a few seconds.

“Why the hell not?” I finally responded. Jacob grabbed both of my shoulders.

“Welcome to the Rooks!” He cried, a bit too dramatically for my taste.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's chapter two, everybody. I know Robbert Topping isn't insane but I just liked the idea of a crazy, flamboyantly dressed bookie. also, leave comments if you have any ideas suggestions or thoughts for the story. I will try to work them into the fic if I can wink wink nudge nudge Seimapp


	3. Fawkes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I haven't posted anything new in a while, I have been SUPER busy.

The Frye twins ushered me onto their train. It was lavishly decorated with red drapes and couches. There was an empty safe laying open against one of the wall. Right next to it stood a short fat woman with a disgusted frown on her face. She walked over toward us.

“Frye,” She said with a Scottish accent, “Who’s this?” She turned and gave me a once over.

“This is our newest recruit,” Jacob said with a cocky smile. He put his arm around my shoulder. The Scottish woman grunted and walked away. Jacob turned to look at me. 

“I’m assuming that you don’t have a place to stay, with the whole gutter rat thing going on,” He said. I shook my head. He sighed and told me to follow him. We walked into a sparsely decorated room with a simple white bed, a plain wooden dresser, and a small nightstand. Jacob turned to look at me.

“It’s not much,” he said, “ But you won’t have to go back out on the streets at least.” He turned and started to walk out of the room. 

“Training starts tomorrow at sunrise,” He called over his shoulder. I sat down on my bed and sighed. In just a few days I had gone from living on the street to a room in the mobile headquarters of a street gang.

I sat there just thinking for about an hour and a half. Finally, I looked out the window and realized it was dark. I didn’t want to ruin the clean bedsheets with my blood stained clothes so I stripped naked before going to sleep.

The next morning Jacob barged into my room and woke me up. He was about to pull the blankets off of me until he noticed my bloody clothes laying next to his feet. He walked out of the room and came back in a minute later with a pile of green and yellow clothes. He threw them at my feet and told me to be ready in five minutes. I was dressed in two. 

Before I went to find Jacob I looked at myself in a nearby mirror. The clothes Jacob had given me looked quite nice. I was wearing gray pants with brown shoes, a yellow belt a forest green jacket over a darker green shirt a black tie around my neck and a black bowlers hat with a yellow stripe around the base. These were the nicest clothes I’ve ever owned. Just then, Jacob walked in. 

“Follow me,” he said, turning and walking off the train. I was short enough that I had to jog to keep up with his stride. We made several turns down various alleyways and streets. Finally ,we arrived in a large courtyard. There were several dozen people dressed in Rooks uniforms like mine. They were standing in small groups and talking with each other. On one end of the yard, on a raised wooden platform was an odd looking diverse group of people. Jacob nodded to one of these people, an Indian man in white robes, then turned and walked away.

“Everyone,” The Indian man shouted over the rest of the crowd, “May I have your attention. Thank you. You are all here because you’ve shown skills and abilities useful to the Rooks. My name is Henry Green, and these,” He gestured to the rest of the people standing near him, “Are your instructors. We will be overseeing your training for the next two weeks. During your training, you will answer directly to us. Is that understood?” We all nodded. “Good. During your training, you will be assigned to a group of five other Rooks. You will train with your group, you will eat with your group, you will work with your group. For the duration of your training, this group will become your greatest asset and your fiercest rival. From every group, only the top three Rooks will be accepted. The rest of you will have to undergo further training. Is that understood?” We nodded again. “Excellent. You will be assigned to your groups based on how you score on your preliminary tests which start now. Each instructor will be giving you a different test. You must take every test before the day is over.”

The next few hours went by remarkably quickly. I was tested in free running by the Indian man who’s name I later learned was Henry Green, Hand to hand combat by Mr. Topping, Firearms combat by a policeman named Frederick Abberline, and the subtle arts of stealth and pickpocketing by a young urchin named Clara O’ Dea. I passed firearms and free running with flying colors but failed knife throwing, stealth, and hand to hand. After all the testing was done we were told to gather in front of the scaffold again. 

“May I have your attention please,” Sergeant Abberline said over the moderate volume of the crowd, ”Now that we have completed our testing we will place you into teams based on your predominant skills. Each team will consist of a combat specialist, climbing specialist, firearms specialist, stealth specialist, and a knife specialist. You will be assigned your teams tomorrow. For now, you’re free to go. Be back here by sunrise tomorrow morning.

As I walked back to the train station I saw a group of blighter standing in a dark alleyway. I didn’t have any weapons so I just kept my head down and kept walking. I was glancing nervously around to see if there were any more blighters walking around but it only seemed to be those three. One of them eventually noticed me.

“Where you going Jock-o,” one of the blighter called out to me, “Come here. We want to have a conversation with you.” The three of them started to walk toward me. I saw one reach inside his jacket for something. ‘This is getting too familiar for comfort’ I thought to myself remembering the night I met the Frye twins. 

“Sorry boys,” I said walking backward, “I have a train to catch.” I saw a flash of steel as a tall lanky blighter pulled a revolver out of his jacket. I threw myself to the ground as he pulled the trigger. The shot rang off of a nearby brick wall. The crowd around me started to panic and run around. I pushed myself to my feet and started running toward the train station. I turned and looked behind me and saw the three blighters chasing after me. I turned a corner into an alleyway and saw a well. I jumped over it and hid behind the lip of the other end. 

I slowed my breathing and focused on my immediate environment. The world turned a shade of blue and I could suddenly see through the well. I saw three red figures turn around the corner and stop. 

“Look around,” The lanky one, obviously the leader, said, “He can’t have gone far.” I saw the other two start walking around different sides of the well. On my left was a large thick skulled looking one with a scar running down his face, the other one was a short fat man with a large knife attached to his leg. I ducked out of my cover to my left and grabbed the big blighter. I kicked him in the groin and threw him in the well with a satisfying splash, then took off running in the direction of the train station. 

Now that I knew the kind of blighters I was being chased by it would be easier to separate them. All I had to do was keep running until the fat one fell behind. After a few more minutes of running, I looked behind me and saw that only the lanky blighter remained. As he was running to catch up to me I used the time to activate my extra sense. I took a closer look at the blighter that was about three-hundred feet from me now. I could see small gold objects inside his clothes. There was a knife in a sheath on his belt, a revolver (five shots left) in his jacket, and a pair of brass knuckles in his trouser pockets.

By the time I had identified all these weapons he was ten feet away from me. He stuck his hands in his pockets and put on the brass knuckles. As soon as he had the knuckles on he swung to try and punch me in the face. I ducked and grabbed his knife out of his belt sheath. I took the knife and slipped it into a sheath sewn into the inside of my Rooks jacket. He turned and looked me in the eye.

“Who won’t you just hold still mate?” He asked as he cracked his knuckles. He swings another punch into my gut. This time, it’s too quick for me to dodge. I can feel the breath leave my lungs as I double over. I looked up and saw him getting ready to punch downward into my head. I jumped to the left as he swung his fist into the pavement below where my head was just moments before. He cursed as he brought his hand up to his chest. I stood up and kicked him in the stomach causing him to drop to his knees. He reached his uninjured hand into his pocket and pulled out his revolver. I grabbed the barrel of the gun and forced it downwards as he pulled the trigger. I grabbed both ends of his forearm and shoved it down over my knee with an audible snap. He cried out in pain as he dropped his gun. I reached down and picked it up. I pulled the hammer back and pointed it at his head.

“Checkmate,” I wheezed, still trying to regain my breath. He looked up into the barrel of his own gun. He spat blood in my face and cursed at me. I wanted to kill him, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

“Why are you hesitating?” The blighter asked, looking offended, “What, never killed someone before? That means that I’ll be you’re first. If you’ve got the guts to do it that is.”   
I closed my eyes and pulled the trigger. There was a loud bang, and then nothing. No more shouting. No more swearing. Just silence, perfect silence. I opened my eyes and looked at the scene in front of me. The blighter's lifeless body was just laying there, face down, and with a large hole in the middle of his head. There was blood spatter everywhere. I dropped the revolver and threw up. 

I fell to my knees and just stayed there. I stayed there for what felt like hours but was probably just a few minutes. Eventually, I was able to pull myself together and try to stand up. When I tried to put any weight on my leg I winced and fell over. I looked down and saw a bleeding wound in my stomach. I needed to get back to the train station.

I grabbed the revolver, stood up again, doing my best to ignore the pain in my gut and started to limp toward the station. After a few minutes, I had made it to the platform. It was still supposed to be a few minutes before the train appeared. So I sat down on a bench and waited. After a few seconds, I felt my eyelids become heavy. I was finding it harder and harder to stay awake. Eventually, I gave up and closed my eyes.

\-----------------------------------

I opened my eyes and looked around me. I was in my room on the train. From the click-clacking sound, I heard I would assume we were moving. I looked toward the door and saw the Frye twins leaning on the wall on either side of the door. Evie looked concerned, while Jacob was smiling. 

“You certainly get around don’t you Johnny?” Jacob asked sarcastically as he stood up from the wall. I tried to sit up but felt a searing pain in my stomach and fell back. I reached a hand under my bed covers and touched my stomach. It was warm and wet. I brought my red, tacky finger up to my face and studied my own blood. 

“Three broken ribs, a hairline fracture in your femur, profuse bleeding and a concussion,” Evie said as she glared at me from the doorway, “You were found unconscious in the train station with a revolver missing three bullets. I think you owe us an explanation seeing as how finding a doctor that doesn’t ask questions isn’t easy or cheap.”

I gave Evie a cocksure smile as I explained what happened to me. The more I talked, the more Jacob's smile grew and Evie’s frown deepened. 

“I can’t believe this!” they shouted in unison, albeit with very different tones of voice. Jacob started bragging about my battle prowess, while Evie went on and on about how stupid I was to fight three blighters without any training.

After a few minutes, Jacob stopped congratulating me, but Evie just kept on spitting venom at me. Jacob eventually managed to get her to stop shouting only for her to storm out of the door, slamming it on her way out. Jacob turned to look at me and shrugged.

“I will never understand her,” I sighed, exasperated. I've only known her for two days and she already doesn’t like me. 

“Give her time, she’ll come around,” Jacob said as he reached into his coat. He pulled out the revolver I used to kill the blighter. 

It had obviously been cleaned and polished. The stainless steel glinted in the sunlight coming in from a nearby window. Jacob took the firearm in both hands and held it up to the light.

“This was in your hands when we found you in the station. It’s a Colt M1877 Lightning revolver, very nice,” Jacob said as he admired the revolver, “I had it cleaned and worked on. I figured you might want to keep it as a… souvenir of sorts.” I nodded and he put the gun down on the table next to my bed.

“I think I’m going to name it Fawkes, as in Guy Fawkes,” I said as Jacob turned to walk away. He chuckled.

“Just get some rest, Johnny,” He said, leaving the room, “As soon as we get you back on your feet, the real training begins.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go, chapter three of Battle Scars. I hope you enjoyed.


End file.
